“Then perhaps you had better let me pay a call on the good doctor,” she said. “That way you won’t be tempted to do something rash.”
“Like hell,” Quill snapped, then recalling to whom he spoke perhaps, he sighed. “My apologies, Miss Wareham. I seem to have forgotten my manners.”
But Ivy, who had grown up in a household where young men in need of tutoring ran tame, was hardly offended. “It’s nothing I’ve not heard before,” she assured him. “Or said myself from time to time. Though I hope you won’t tell my mother. She has corrected me for my unruly tongue more than once.”
If she’d expected him to be surprised by her confession, she was disappointed. Instead he gave a quick grin. “Why am I not surprised?” he asked with a laugh.
The diversion lightened the mood somewhat and it was with a bit less ferocity that Quill said, “Why don’t we both go to the village to see the doctor. That way you can keep me from doing anything rash.”
“And what purpose will you serve?” she asked with a raised brow, unable to keep from baiting him.
“I’ll keep you from doing anything your mother would find improper,” he said, extending his arm to her.
“I look forward to seeing you try,” Ivy responded taking his arm. “I can swear in several languages.”
“But that’s no impediment to me, Miss Wareham,” he said as he shut the library door behind them. “So can I.”
Chapter 9
To Ivy’s frustration and disappointment, however, Lady Serena had scheduled a tour of Beauchamp House and the surrounding grounds that morning.
“Now that you’re all finally here,” she explained to Ivy and Lord Kerr as they stood near the door to the servants’ quarters, “I can show you just what it is that Lady Celeste built here. Beauchamp House is more than just its magnificent library and scholarly collection. It’s also a working farm, and boasts a pottery staffed solely by women.”
Despite her vexation at not being able to question the doctor, Ivy’s interest was piqued by Serena’s mention of the pottery. “I had hoped to go into the village today—” she began.
“But surely that can wait, Miss Wareham?” asked the marquess with a speaking look. “I know I said I’d accompany you, but perhaps it would be better if we go another day.”
Recalling how he’d attempted to question Mrs. Bacon without her, Ivy was skeptical. “You would be willing to wait, my lord? And will promise not to travel into the village on your own without me?”
Lady Serena frowned, looking from Ivy to her cousin and back again. “Clearly I’ve missed something here.”
Holding Lord Kerr’s gaze, Ivy raised a brow in question.
After a moment, he let out a breath. “Fine, Miss Wareham. I will promise not to go into the village without you. Though I must warn you that our errand is a time-sensitive one.”
“What errand?” Serena asked, her brows snapping together in suspicion.
“Nothing mysterious, cousin,” Lord Kerr said holding up his hands to protest his innocence. “I merely offered to escort Miss Wareham into the village to purchase some ink.”
“Ink?”
Before his lordship could elaborate, Ivy interjected. “I prefer to use a very particular brand of ink for my translation work. And I realized upon unpacking that I’d left my own behind. But it can wait.”
The other woman looked skeptical, but didn’t argue. “So you’ll join the rest of us, then?”
After one last speaking look at Lord Kerr, Ivy nodded. “I would like to very much.”
“Then take yourself off, Quill,” said Lady Serena, slipping an arm through Ivy’s. “This outing is for ladies only.”
It was only after they were out of earshot of the marquess that Lady Serena continued. “I hope, Miss Wareham, that you will accept a word of advice.”
Still unsettled by the hasty reversal of her plans for the day, it took Ivy a moment to realize she was expected to respond. “About what, Lady Serena?” Though she had some idea about whom it might pertain to.
They had just reached the double doors leading into the library, when the chaperone turned to face Ivy before she continued. “My cousin is a very handsome man, Miss Wareham, but he is a notorious flirt. He is an honorable man, but like all men, he doesn’t always think before he acts. I should hate to see you come to harm because of it.” She paused, and Ivy saw a shadow cross her face.
“Lady Serena?” Ivy asked, concerned. “What is it?”
But whatever it was had passed, and the chaperone shook her head a little. “Nothing, my dear. I am doubtlessly being overprotective. Just promise me you will not take Quill too much to heart.”
Thinking back to the pull of attraction she’d felt between herself and the marquess, Ivy nevertheless waved away Lady Serena’s warning. “I can assure you, my lady,” she said firmly, “that I’m in no danger of succumbing to your cousin’s charms. He may be handsome, but he’s also stubborn and not just a little arrogant.”
Serena narrowed her eyes, as if trying to discern the truth of Ivy’s denial. Then, biting back whatever retort she’d been about to make, she opened the library door and pulled her charge into the chamber that would never stop setting Ivy’s heart to beating faster.
If she was in danger of losing her head, it was over the first-class collection of manuscripts, books, and artifacts in this room, she thought as her eyes scanned the floor-to-ceiling shelves with something like wonder.
“Were you able to find Lord Kerr, Miss Wareham?” asked Sophia, looking up from where she stood perusing one of the cabinets where Ivy knew the art books were shelved.
Feeling Serena’s gaze on her, Ivy tried to look nonchalant. “I did, thank you, Sophia.” Stepping farther into the room, she crossed to glance out the window looking out over the gardens. “I wish you would call me Ivy. It will be a tiresome year if we all stand on ceremony with one another for the duration.”
“I can see nothing objectionable in that,” Serena said from where she’d moved to remove a thick, bound leather volume from one of the shelves. “And as I said before, you must call me Serena. I am serving as your chaperone of course, but we’re of an age, I think. And I hope we can become friends.”
Before any of them could reply, Lady Serena continued. “Now, are you all ready for a tour of the house and gardens? My aunt left strict instructions about what areas and features she most particularly wished for you all to see.” She held up the volume in her hand to emphasize her words.
Daphne looked up from where she was seated at one of the large library tables with a stack of books before her. “Must I go too? I’ve only just started in on this fascinating account of the Goldbach conjecture…”
“And I’m immersed in this history of Dr. Harvey’s dig at Stonehenge,” Gemma added looking vexed. “Perhaps you should take only Sophia and Ivy for this first tour, Lady Serena. After all, we don’t wish to disrupt the household with a large party traipsing here and there.”
But Lady Serena would have none of it, much to Ivy’s relief. Despite her wish to begin investigating the circumstances of Lady Celeste’s death, she too wanted some time alone with the contents of the library and the idea of being off on a tour while the others had free reign in the magnificent room sent a pang of outright jealousy through her.
“Come along, Gemma and Daphne,” Sophia said, reluctantly turning from the art books. “If Lady Celeste wished us to see these parts of Beauchamp House, then I daresay it was important to her. The least we can do for the poor woman’s sake is to do as she wished. Without her we’d not be here at all.”
“I hate it when you’re sensible,” Gemma groused, though she stood and tugged a still-reluctant Daphne from her chair.
“I suppose it will still be here when we return.” Daphne gave one last longing look at her chosen tome.
Without any sort of preplanning, the four ladies stood in a row before Lady Serena, who smiled approvingly. “Excellent. Now, you’ve seen the library, so let’s go downs
tairs and start in the entrance hall.”
As they made to follow her through the double doors, Sophia took Ivy’s arm. “You don’t suppose Lord Kerr will make an appearance do you? I should very much like to study those cheekbones a bit more. He’d make a very good Mars for my study of the war god and his lady.”
“Why don’t you just ask him to sit for you?” Ivy asked pettishly. Something about the other lady’s interest in the marquess set her teeth on edge.
But Sophia shook her head, and slipped her arm through Ivy’s companionably. “Men are the most wretched models I’ve found. They are impatient as can stare, and don’t take orders very well at all. Much better to just get the details in the usual course of things and use my imagination for the rest.”
The artist had a point, Ivy conceded. Lord Kerr was nothing if not headstrong.
“I have no idea what his plans were for the rest of the day,” she said with diffidence.
Was it her imagination or was Sophia smirking at her?
Really, she thought, if she’d known her tenure at Beauchamp House would entail so much scrutiny from her fellow bluestockings, she would have remained home.
But as they reached the second-floor landing she saw the portrait of Lady Celeste and immediately felt a pang of guilt.
Not only had her benefactor chosen her to share Beauchamp House, she’d also, for some reason Ivy hadn’t figured out yet, deemed her trustworthy enough to solve her murder.
If she had to endure some teasing from the other ladies, then so be it. She’d endured worse from her brothers at home.
And besides that, she was hardly some wilting violet who couldn’t stand up for herself.
She was made of sterner stuff than that.
Aloud, she said, “Enough about the marquess. This is part of our inheritance, Sophia.”
At Sophia’s look of surprise, Ivy raised a speaking brow. “For bluestockings only.”
Gemma and Daphne, who were just ahead of them, turned.
“Bluestockings only,” Daphne said with a nod. “I like it.”
“As do I,” said Gemma grinning.
“I believe we’ve got our motto, ladies,” Sophia said with a laugh. “Beauchamp House, for Bluestockings Only.”
And, however reluctantly we might accept them, Ivy added silently, relations of Lady Celeste Beauchamp.
* * *
Despite his instinct, which was to make his way to the village posthaste to meet with his aunt’s physician, Quill curbed the impulse and decided to take Jem out to see his horses.
Starved for male attention, the boy was elated when his older cousin appeared at the nursery door and requested his company for a trip to the stables.
“Since you’ve not seen his lordship in a long while, Master Jeremy,” his nanny, Mrs. Ellis said firmly, “I will allow it. But no more sneaking down to the kitchens without asking first.”
Trying and failing to look contrite, the boy nodded vigorously but couldn’t conceal the grin that overtook his face.
“She seems like a good sport,” Quill said as they made their way down the back stairs to the door leading out to the stableyard. “Not at all like my old nanny, who’d have skinned me alive for a stunt like the one you pulled this morning.”
Jeremy shrugged. “I suppose so. Mama thinks I don’t know, but I heard her telling Mrs. Ellis not to be too hard on me. On account of Father.”
The boy spat out the last word, as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.
Yet another sin to lay upon the grave of the late unlamented Lord Fanning, Quill thought grimly. “Is that so? Does it bother you?”
The boy pondered the question for a moment. “I don’t know ’xactly. On the one hand I like not getting into much trouble.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Quill bit back a smile.
“But I don’t like it that they treat me like a baby.” He looked up at his cousin, a fierce look in his countenance. “I’m not a baby.”
Knowing it would be exactly the wrong thing at this moment, Quill suppressed the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. Even after the difficulties he’d faced when Fanning had terrorized both the boy and his mother, Jeremy managed to maintain a sort of quiet dignity that the marquess couldn’t help but be proud of.
“Certainly not.”
They were crossing the side yard now, and the stables were just in sight.
“I know Mama thinks I need coddling because of what he did,” Jeremy said, a note of frustration in his young voice. “But I don’t. I can take care of myself. And her too.”
He paused, and Quill waited for him to finish.
“I couldn’t when he was alive, you know.” His expression was that of someone many years older. “I was too little then. But I’m not now. I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.”
Placing a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder, Quill said, “Of course you won’t. You’re a good man, Jem. I’m sure your Mama knows it.”
“I let her down, Uncle Quill,” the boy said with a sigh. “But I won’t do it again.”
Unable to let the boy continue in this vein, Quill knelt before him. Looking into eyes that were so much like Serena’s, he said firmly, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were no match for a man like your father. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your mother believes the same thing.”
“But he hurt her, Uncle Quill,” Jem pressed on. “And I couldn’t stop—”
Hoping that Fanning was roasting in Hades, the marquess interrupted his small cousin. “Do you blame your Mama for not defending herself better? Do you believe that she should have been able to stop him?”
That gave the boy pause. His brow furrowed. “What? Of course not. She’s just a lady and—”
“I’ll stop you right there, boy,” said Quill with a laugh. “Never let your Mama or any of Aunt Celeste’s heiresses hear you call any of them ‘just a lady’ if you know what’s good for you.”
He stood, and they resumed their trek to the stables.
“But they are ladies,” Jem said, puzzled.
“True enough,” the marquess agreed, “but that doesn’t mean that they’re defenseless. You certainly wouldn’t like it if they were to call you ‘just a child’ would you?”
“Of course not,” Jem said heatedly, as if someone had called him that. Then, Quill could almost hear the realization come to him.
“Oh.”
“Yes,” Quill agreed. “Oh.”
“So that’s what Auntie Celeste meant about not treating ladies like children?”
“Something like that,” Quill agreed. “So, let’s have no more lamentations from you over your helplessness in the face of a man three times your size. You and your Mama did your best in a difficult situation. And there’s an end on it.”
Looking thoughtful, Jeremy nodded.
Then, as if the discussion had allowed him to cast off a heavy cloak of guilt, he brightened. “Do you think Graham in the stables will let me brush out your grays?”
Relieved that he’d managed the conversation with some degree of success, Quill clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I think that can certainly be arranged.”
Chapter 10
“It’s a shame we weren’t able to visit the pottery today because of the rain,” Ivy said that evening as the residents of Beauchamp House sat in the drawing room after dinner.
To her surprise, she meant the words. Though she’d been reluctant to pause her investigation into Lady Celeste’s death with something as seemingly trivial as a tour of the house, the hours spent in the company of her fellow heiresses had proved to be both informative and entertaining. And Lady Serena had proved to be quite knowledgeable about all the considerations her aunt had put into the decoration and improvement of her estate.
“Unfortunately, Miss Wareham,” said the marquess from where he stood with one shoulder against the sitting room mantle, “you’ll find that this part of the country is prone to unexpected showers at this time of year.”
“If
we’re reduced to discussing the weather,” Sophia said with a shake of her auburn curls, “then I shall simply be forced to do something scandalous in order to alleviate my boredom. Pray, do not make me do it.”
There was a hint of the absurd in her tone, but Ivy got the feeling that the artist would not be above making good on her threat.
“There is no need to resort to drastic measures, Miss Hastings,” interjected the marquess with a staying hand. “I will change the subject immediately. I shouldn’t like my cousin’s first foray into the realm of chaperonage to be a failure, you know.”
Serena gave him a speaking look. “I will thank you very much to mind your own business, Kerr. I am quite able to handle whatever attempts at scandal these ladies attempt to dish out.” After a quelling look in Sophia’s direction, she turned to Ivy. “Perhaps you can tell us a bit more about your translation work, Ivy.”
Feeling all eyes turn on her, Ivy felt herself flush. “Oh, it’s not very interesting to talk about,” she demurred. “Just a process of reading the original, then trying to capture the essence of it using our own language.”
But she wasn’t to be let off so lightly.
“A great deal of Greek poetry is rather shocking, isn’t it, Ivy?” Gemma asked, her blue eyes glinting with slyness. “At least, that’s what one of the essays I read about the Elgin marbles said.”
Before Ivy could confirm or deny the question, Daphne spoke up. “I was quite disappointed by the marbles when I was finally able to view them. I was expecting the male mem—”
“Daphne, dear,” Serena interrupted, “it’s not the done thing to discuss such things in mixed company, you know.”
“Or any company,” said Sophia in a low voice that only Ivy, seated beside her, could hear.
Unable to stop herself, Ivy looked up to see how the marquess had reacted to Daphne’s slip up. To her surprise, he was looking right at her.
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